by Connie Flynn
To Dana's fear-crazed mind, the noise resembled laughter, but she took no time to figure it out. She inched as deep into the crevasse as possible, then hurled the torch.
With a shriek, the creature clawed at a singed ear, batted at the falling torch. The stench of burning hair filled Dana's lungs. She coughed and scooted further up the path.
. . . come in handy when you least expect it.
As the creature screamed and stomped above her, Dana shoved a gloved hand in the pocket of her jumpsuit, seeking the smelling salts that Tony's comment referred to. But the fabric was pulled tight by the weight of her fallen body, and the vials were deep inside. She twisted and squirmed, trying to gain access.
Just as her fingers touched paper, her attacker recovered. Arching like a cat, it raised its hairy arms and let out a chilling howl. Dana's heart pounded. Blood roared in her ears. She shoved her hand deeper into the pocket.
Snagging a vial between two fingers, she yanked it out, snapped the paper like a matchstick, then threw it. The acrid fumes spread instantly and she buried her nose in her sleeve.
With a gasp, the creature staggered away, its body wavering strangely. Fur seemed to be melting right off its fearsome form. For a crazy moment, Dana caught a glimpse of white skin, a human toe. She blinked, certain she was hallucinating.
Then the creature gave a mighty kick. The vial soared into the air, flying, flying, flying, until Dana could see it no more. Now looking more dangerous, more monstrous than ever before, the creature closed in, open jaws dripping, ruby-specked eyes gleaming malevolently. Dana shut her eyes and prepared to die.
A furious cry resounded from the trees.
Her eyes snapped open to see a larger, darker figure coming rapidly toward them. It snarled threateningly, and the white creature turned to face it, screaming back.
The sounds were both bestial and human, and unlike any Dana had heard before. They chilled her heart so thoroughly she curled into a ball, barely able to look at the monsters facing off above her.
* * *
"Get away from her, Lily!" Morgan commanded in the Lupine language.
"Keep back, Morgan. The woman is mine."
Morgan leaped in front of Lily, bared his fangs, dug at the ground with a foot. "Did you forget she belongs to me?"
"Then slay her! Slay her." Lily straightened, put her long-fingered hands on her hips, and cast a disdainful glance at Dana. "Look how that foul wretch cringes. Smell that noxious stink she brings with her. Can you abide her living presence even one moment longer?"
At Lily's words, Morgan recognized the fumes, which still lingered in the clearing. He tried to stifle a sniff, failed, and recoiled as the essence entered his lungs. For a moment he felt light-headed, then it passed along with the odor.
In the meantime, Lily stepped forward. She stroked his head seductively, waving her other hand in Dana's direction. "When you take your first human, Morgan, nothing compares. Their blood is rich and fragrant; it tastes like honey on the tongue. Not at all like the rabbits and squirrels and farm animals you prey upon."
While Lily's voice crooned in his ears, Morgan stared at Dana in rapt fascination. Her pulse beat rapidly in her throat; terror filled her eyes.
"I give her to you as a mating gift. Take her, my darling foolish Morgan. Take her. She's yours."
He inhaled the thrilling musk of her fear. An insatiable lust rose from his viscera, nearly overwhelming him. He crouched and salivated. His breaths grew shallow.
Then Dana whimpered.
"Never!" Morgan rose to full height and clamped his enormous hand around Lily's wrist. "If you hurt her, I'll kill you!"
Lily's dark eyes narrowed.
"You would not do that. The Law forbids it."
"Don't test me."
An owl, undaunted by the sounds of quarreling beasts, hooted from a tree. Water plunked from the canyon walls; Dana whimpered on the ground. Through it all, Morgan and Lily locked their eyes in mutual challenge.
Finally, Lily turned her head away. "You stupid omega whelp," she said in disgust. "I never should have made you. You are unworthy."
"You made me too well." Tightening his hold on her wrist, he stepped forward, widened his jaw, and feinted a move toward Lily's throat.
"Imagine," he jeered. "An alpha slain by an omega. How humiliating."
"No-o-o!" Lily threw back her head and yanked, straining to break Morgan's grip. Although she was strong, he was stronger, and she knew it. He sank his claws deeper into her wrist. She flinched, then spit at Morgan's face.
She missed her mark, but he wouldn't have cared had it been otherwise. He had no use for Lupine law or protocol. All he cared about was Dana.
If he'd arrived just seconds later
So great was the pain, he couldn't bear to think of it. And this snarling bitch who'd tempted him so cruelly filled him with such hate he could joyfully take her life. With a burst of rage, he reached out and closed his jaw around her throat.
"Ki-yi-yi-yi!"
Lily pawed at him with her free hand and twisted her body, battling to drive a powerful leg into Morgan's soft underbelly. One of her claws caught his cheekbone. He felt it pierce and split hair and skin. Still holding her neck in his mouth, Morgan snaked his leg around her thigh and jerked.
Caught off-balance, Lily toppled, pulling Morgan with her. They fell amid a cloud of scattering dirt and gravel, with Lily on her back. Morgan's massive shoulders pinned down her heaving chest. His knees were between her legs, his teeth still at her neck.
Kill her! he thought. Kill her now!
He felt her shudder beneath him, heard heavy panting in his ears.
"Copulate with me, Morgan," she urged. "You know you want it as much as I."
A wave of revulsion swept over him. He pressed his teeth deeper into the soft, loose folds at her neck. A single sharp bite could slice her jugular vein, spill her blood like those of the countless mortals she had slain. She lifted a hand, drew it languorously down his back. Her legs opened wider and he fell deeper between them. "Now, Morgan!" she panted urgently. "Here! On this sacred ground!"
Suddenly his revulsion got lost in a burst of pity. He'd been on the verge of snuffing out her life, yet she wanted him so badly.
Praying he wouldn't regret his decision later, Morgan released Lily's throat and climbed to his feet.
"I'll never be your mate, Lily," he snarled, yanking her up to face him. "Never in a thousand Lupine lifetimes!"
"You cur-r-r," she snarled back. "You mortal-loving cur."
"Your insults don’t mean a thing to me."
With a firm grip on her arm, he dragged Lily toward the forest. She strained and struggled, yowled and cursed, but couldn't free herself. When they reached the edge, Morgan shoved her inside the trees, then looked back to the cringing Dana.
"Run!" he cried in the mortal tongue.
* * *
Dana had wrapped herself into a tiny, shivering ball, but that single word spurred her to action. She sprang to her feet and raced up the path. The white creature's yowls and cries continued ringing in the forest, driving her on. By the time she reached the top, she was out of breath, her shoulder ached, and her legs felt weak and trembly.
Too terrified to stop, she swept down to scoop up her dropped gear, then continued running until the snow turned into impassable powder. She paused only long enough to get into the snowshoes.
Her mind whirled throughout the seemingly endless journey, trying to make sense of what had happened. Everything she'd been reading over the last few days told her she'd been attacked by a werewolf—and also saved by one. At the same time, she knew her conclusion was impossible.
But what then? That creature was no animal she'd ever seen. And the dark one had spoken to her in plain English. Could they have been humans dressed in animal skins? Perhaps from the Indian tribe?
Or even more sinister, could the men be part of some kind of cult that lured people in for sacrifice? Had she stumbled on the secret Mission Lobo h
ad been sent to uncover?
But one of them had defended her. What was more, that didn't explain the fangs and claws. Maybe, she thought wearily, she'd seen fetishes hanging from their cloaks, and in her fear, imagined them to be real.
Each answer spawned a new question. Soon her mind grew as tired as her body.
The cabin came into view at last. Although she hadn't set the dogs to barking as she'd feared, as she got nearer a few of them began whining excitedly. Even those small sounds set Dana's battered nerves afire. She veered off, coming closer to the shadows of the woods than she preferred.
Her shoulder ached and she felt sure it was bleeding. Her legs felt like weights of steel. To make matters worse, feathers kept blowing into her face from the tear in her jumpsuit. Just a few more yards, she told herself. A few more. Then she'd be at the cabin door.
Just a few more yards.
A dark shape stepped out of the forest. A large hand wrapped around her wrist.
She let out a shriek.
"Dammit, Dana! What are you doing out here?"
"M-M-Morgan." Which was all she could say before speech escaped her. But her mind continued racing, and she could only think that she'd now have to tell him she'd lost Fenris.
"I distinctly ordered you to stay inside at night." Morgan let go of her wrist, shoving his hands into his hair. It was so dark where they were standing, she could hardly see his face, but she could certainly feel his anger. "Lord, what am I to do? I can't watch you every second. Why in damnation can't you honor my simplest request?"
He grabbed her arms and shook her, causing her teeth to chatter even more and sending sparks of pain through her injured shoulder. A cinder of helpless rage had been smoldering beneath her terror and now ignited and snapped her mute streak.
"What the hell are you doing? Let go!" She slapped Morgan's hands away and backed up a few steps. "Don't ever, ever do that again!"
"Where have you been?" He didn't sound the least bit contrite.
"Where have I been? Where have you been? Why are you always roaming around out here at night?"
Just then, something whined and darted around their feet.
Dana's sudden rush of relief weakened her legs.
"Fenris," she cried, taking the runt's paws in her hands and making glad cooing noises. She looked up at Morgan's shadowed face and saw a deep scratch that she hadn't noticed before. "Where did you find him?"
"Answer my question. After all my warnings, why were you out of the cabin again?"
She let go of Fenris, but kept a hand on his shoulder as she tried to explain.
"The dogs, they were barking up a storm. I've never heard them act like that before. Then I saw a dog along the ridge. At first I thought Aphrodite had escaped again. But she hadn't." She put her hands on her temples. Her head injury throbbed nearly as much as her shoulder, and her legs still felt weak. Glancing up at Morgan, trying to decide where to begin, she vaguely noticed that he seemed even taller than usual; then she worked at collecting her thoughts.
As briefly as possible, she told him about Fenris darting from the cabin, then chasing after the other dog. How she'd followed them along the rim, only to lose them near the forest.
"Do you know those Indians, Morgan?" she asked accusingly, after she'd mentioned seeing them. By this time, she'd already discarded the cult idea and convinced herself that one of the men attacked her because she'd released the sheep. The second one simply hadn't approved of his method and had come to her rescue.
"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything? None of this is any excuse for—"
"I'm gaining evidence that wolves are up here. That tribe's doing some kind of appeasement ceremony by leaving sheep out to feed them. It's not right! And it's making killers out of natural predators. What do you know about it?"
"Hear me, Dana, and hear me well," Morgan said coldly. "Don't meddle with things you don't understand."
"Understand? I'm just beginning to understand." But suddenly she wasn't sure she believed a word of what she was saying. The full horror of what had happened rushed back. Dropping her head to her hands, she whispered, "Someone attacked me down there, Morgan."
"I kno—"
Dana's head snapped up. "What?"
"I know you believe there are wolves in the canyon." Although the words were heated, Dana heard pain in Morgan's voice. "You're dead wrong. And if you're not careful, you'll just be plain dead. Those aren't ordinary Indians. Keep away from them. Stay in the cabin at night." He turned then and put a hand on her shoulder. "Come, let's go inside."
It was an order, not a request. Dana considered protesting, but inside was where she wanted to be anyway. She also wanted to be with Morgan. True, he was angry with her, rightfully so. But his presence still made the terror of that canyon seem further away. She could think more clearly, put it all into perspective. Without another word, she went along.
They entered the cabin, stepping into a puddle of water so deep it reflected the gaslight lamps.
Dana groaned.
"I'll mop it up," Morgan offered dourly. "Just get those wet things off and go to bed."
Another order. Again Dana obeyed. She didn't know how much longer her legs would hold up anyway. Her wounds throbbed. Wearily, she leaned the snowshoes against the wall, then went to the stool and removed her boots. By the time she was down to her thermal shirt and sweat pants, Morgan had finished mopping and had added logs to the fire.
As she started to hang the jumpsuit on its peg, he edged in front of her. Startled, she glanced up. His forehead was creased with annoyance. The hair and beard she'd so carefully trimmed somehow still managed to look ragged and wild.
"I'll relieve you of that." He reached over her and removed the rest of the outdoor gear from the rack, draping the garments over his arm.
"You can't do that," she protested. "That parka is mine."
"I just did." He turned away, his eyes grazing her shoulder. Gently, he reached out and touched her.
"You're injured."
She lowered her gaze to his hand and saw a large patch of drying blood on her thermal shirt.
"Oh, great!" she grumbled. "Now I'll have to sleep with this mess."
"Let me bandage it." He lifted the thin fabric, started to peer underneath.
"I can take care of it!" Dana snapped, pushing his hand away. "Just tell me where the supplies are."
"Suit yourself." He walked to the cupboards, took out a small kit and tossed it on the bed, where it landed with a thud. Then he returned to circling the room, picking up Dana's boots, gloves, and hat, piling them on top of the other items.
"What are you doing?"
"Buying insurance."
Dana watched warily as he snuffed the lamps one by one, noticing that the scratch on his cheek had nearly vanished. Even though the fire blazed hot, she shivered apprehensively.
"You're taking them in there?" she asked through the flickering darkness.
"Yes."
The fire popped; a log cracked and fell. Ferris snored softly. Dana felt a surge of sheer terror. "Am I your prisoner, then?"
"If you choose to see it that way." He put his hand on the doorknob. "In the meantime, I need some sleep. This appears to be the only way I can get it. Don't forget to disinfect that wound."
Then he entered his bedroom and slammed the door.
Trapped. High above the sinister canyon with an unfathomable man. Her one opportunity to escape now locked in Morgan's forbidden room. She tried to devise an alternate plan, but the looming shadows cast by the flames made her jump each time they flickered in the corners of her eyes. Fenris's deep breaths brought back memories of the beast's snarls.
She timidly made her way to the rocker to gain the only light left in the room and began to tend her wounds. As the disinfectant stung the deep gashes that only a claw could have caused, she found it hard to remain sensible or to deny she'd seen a monster.
Chapter Sixteen
Morgan had risen unusually early that m
orning, and Dana groggily heard him milling around the kitchen just as sun started streaking through the window. Soon she smelled the aromas of perking coffee and bubbling oatmeal, but her night had been a bad one, full of uneasy dreams that she only vaguely remembered. She was finally enjoying a block of peaceful slumber and didn't much care about food or sunlight.
Suddenly, she sprang to a sitting position. Good God, a sunny morning. Nothing could keep her here any longer. She could leave this cursed place.
"Where are my clothes?"
Morgan, who'd been pouring coffee, turned at the sound of her voice. Without answering, he walked over and handed Dana a cup. Although it was a kindly gesture, his hard face didn't look kind at all.
Dana didn't much care. She flounced out of bed, nearly spilling her drink in her haste, grabbed her duffel bag, and went into the bathroom. She came out fully dressed and again asked Morgan for her outerwear.
"After we eat," he said in a tone that left no room for argument. At least not from someone who felt as battered as she did.
"I demand you take me back to my car," Dana stated firmly, over her bowl of oatmeal. "The storm is over. There's no reason to wait."
"Mmm." Morgan shoveled another spoonful into his mouth.
Dana waited impatiently until he swallowed. "Well?" •
"Tomorrow." He dished up another load of cereal.
"No! Today!"
"The passes will still be blocked. They need another day to melt."
She got up irately and took the bowl to the sink, where she swished it in a sudsy basin, rinsed it in another, then picked up a towel and dried the dish
"Can't the dogs pull us over the snow?" She put the bowl in the cupboard and walked back to the table.
Morgan washed down a last bite with a gulp of coffee, then slowly lowered the cup back to the table. "The sled isn't for passengers, it's for supplies."
"But couldn't it carry passengers?"
Morgan looked at her sternly. "I'm not going to risk injuring the dogs just because you're in a hurry to save some nonexistent wolves."